Anger has many forms and many causes, but, as Horace Fletcher has shown, it has its root in fear. One is angry because one fears bodily harm, or injury to material interests, or deprivation of some enjoyed blessing, or injury to reputation or friendship through something that some one has said or done. The self-confident, fearless, composed person does not get angry, though suffering all the trials and vexations that make another person “fly all to pieces” a dozen times a day. That common expression, by the way, exactly describe the effect of anger. One’s mental and physical harmony does “fly all to pieces,” and is a long time getting patched up again.
Self-control is of course the preventive of anger. Logic and deliberation in judging of incidents and their effect on one are conducive to self-control. A common excitant to anger is an epithet, the calling of a name. Think just what this is, and you must decide that it is silly to lose one’s temper over it. You are angry really because you are afraid somebody may believe the characterization is true. Were you absolutely sure of yourself and your reputation, the epithet would have no more effect than the barking of a dog, or a word in some foreign language that you did not understand. It has no real effect at all, only what you allow it to have in your own mind. It does not alter the facts in the case in the least. The wise attitude is that taken by Mirabeau, who, when speaking at Marseilles, was called “calumniator, liar, assassin, scoundrel.” He said, “I wait, gentlemen, till these amenities be exhausted.”
Anger because some one has done work wrong does not help matters any. It does not undo the mistake, or make the erring one not less likely to repeat the error than would a careful showing of what is wrong, and the proper method. Your own energy could be far more profitably spent than in a fit of temper.
Whatever the cause of anger, it will usually be found to be trivial. A proof is that quick-tempered people are always apologizing the next day, when the matter looks very different. Cultivate the habit of forming this “tomorrow” judgment to-day, and your angry explosions will be reduced to a minimum. Cultivate optimism in general, and particularly the love-thought, toward all people with whom you come in contact, and you will soon find it hard to be angry with any of them. Jealousy and hatred will disappear by the cultivation of the same attitude of mind. Whatever the killing emotion that you are allowing to destroy your happiness and shorten your life, the remedy can be found within yourself, in your own thinking and acting. Long ago Epictetus practised the remedy and said:
“Reckon the days in which you have not been angry. I used to be angry every day; now every third day; then every third and fourth day; and if you miss it so long as thirty days, offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving to God.”
Chapter VII.
Mastering Our Moods
A character is a man who knows what he wants; who does not allow his temper and moods to govern him, but acts on firm principles.—Treu.
WHEN things go hard with you, when everything seems to go against you, when you are thwarted on every side, when the sky is dark and you can see no light, that is just the time to exhibit your mettle, to show of what stuff you are made. If there is anything in you, adversity will bring it out. What a man does in spite of circumstances, rather than because of them, is the measure of his success ability.
When you get up in the morning feeling blue and discouraged because disagreeable things confront you, make up your mind firmly that, come what may, you will make that particular day a “red-letter” day in your life. Then, instead of a probable failure and the loss of a day, you will at least accomplish infinitely more than you would have done if you had given way to your depressing mood.
Man is naturally a lazy animal, and when things go hard with him the temptation to slip over or get around the difficult place is very strong. But this is not the way to kill the dragon that dogs your footsteps and robs you of your happiness. Do not shake off or avoid your work; do not go around obstacles—go through them. Seize the dragon by the head and strangle him.
“Above all,” says Frank C. Haddock, in “The Power of Will,” “anger, irritation, jealousy, depression, sour feelings, morose thoughts, worry, should be forever banished from the mind by the resolute, masterful will. All these are physiological devils. They not only disturb the mind, but also injure the body by developing poisonous and distorting cells. They prevent an even circulation. The poisons which they generate are deadly in the extreme. They flatten and tear asunder cells of nervous tissue. They induce permanent physiological states which are inimical to vigorous will. They dispel hopefulness, and obscure high motives, and lower the mental tone. They should be cast out of life with the resolution that as aliens they shall always be treated. They may be throttled and slaughtered and locked absolutely out of your existence. Whoever will accomplish these great results will discover a growth of will adequate to every normal demand.”
If you are morose, moody, or despondent; if you have the habit of worrying or fretting about things, or any other fault that hinders your growth, you will never rid yourself of it by brooding over it. Nothing is more certain than that nursing such feelings aggravates them. But if the sufferer will try to change the current of his thought by calling up some happy memory, looking on some beautiful object in art or in nature, reading from some helpful, uplifting book, the “blues” will soon vanish. Sunshine will take the place of gloom, and joy of sadness. As Mrs. Wiggs says: “The way to get cheerful is to smile when you feel bad, to think about somebody else’s headache when your own is 'most bustin', to keep on believin’ the sun is a-shinin' when the clouds is thick enough to cut.”
One of the brightest and most cheerful women I ever knew told me that she was prone to fits of depression or the blues, but that she learned to conquer them by forcing herself to sing a bright, joyous song, or to play a lively air on the piano, whenever she felt an attack ” coming on.
The expelling power of a contrary emotion is practically perfect, if the new thought be stronger than the old.
“The only cure for indolence is work,” says Rutherford; “the only cure for selfishness is sacrifice; the only cure for unbelief is to shake off the ague of doubt by doing Christ’s bidding; the only cure for timidity is to plunge into some dreadful duty before the chill comes on.” Similarly, the cure for bad moods is to summon good ones to fill one’s whole mind and thought. It requires a strong effort of will, but the only way to conquer any fault is to think persistently of the opposite virtue, and to practise it until it is yours by the force of habit Hold just the opposite thought from that which depresses you, and you will naturally reverse the, mood. The imagination has great power to change an unpleasant thought or experience. When you are the victim of vicious moods, just say to yourself: “This is all unreal; it has nothing to do with my higher and better self, for the Creator never intended me to be dominated by such dark pictures.” Persistently recall the most delightful experiences, the happiest days of your life. Hold persistently in the mind such things as you have enjoyed; drive out the failure-thoughts by thinking of the successful things you have accomplished. Persistently hold joyous thoughts when sadness threatens. Call hope to your aid, and picture a bright, successful future. Surround yourself with such happy thoughts for a few minutes, and you will be surprised to see how all the ghosts of blackness and gloom—all thoughts which have worried and haunted you—have gone out of sight. They cannot bear the light. Light, joy, gladness, and harmony are your best protectors; discord, darkness, and sickness cannot exist where they are. As a writer in the Magazine of Mysteries says: “Our troubles can stand anything better than indifference and ridicule. When we separate ourselves from them and forget them for things of greater interest, or when, in our own minds, we turn their insignificance to derision, they speedily slink away abashed and hide their ‘ diminished heads.’ ”
